


the bittersweet salt cracks my heart

by tooshyforthis



Series: good girls ficlets [3]
Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, POV Beth Boland, Post-Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:02:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27181514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tooshyforthis/pseuds/tooshyforthis
Summary: For a moment, Beth doesn’t react, still trying to process what’s happening. And then she kisses him back, just as forceful as he is, her hands twisting in the lapels of his jacket the way his have in her hair.--This fic can best be described as "hate sex turns into lovemaking, but make it basically PG-13".
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Series: good girls ficlets [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1984082
Comments: 17
Kudos: 117





	the bittersweet salt cracks my heart

**Author's Note:**

> title from taste of your tears by king.  
> i rewatched miss sloane (2016) today and decided i needed a "beth cries while making out with rio" scene, so i wrote the premise on tumblr (bathroombreaks.tumblr.com/post/632873109993734144) and then changed it so it had proper capitalisation and posted it here. i'm warning you right now, this is un-beta'd and barely edited.
> 
> feel free to write your own take on the premise and link it in the comments if you want to, i'd love to read it. :)
> 
> ok, that's it, hope you enjoy!

For months now, the tension between them had been rising, growing into something red-hot and sharp enough to cut.

Beth had managed to remain wilfully ignorant of it, completely certain that all of it — the way his gaze always dragged over her form, the way his palm grazed hers when exchanging duffel bags, the way he sat a little too close for comfort while they went over the numbers — was just part of some new twisted little game of his, a way to throw her off her game. And so, she’d always plowed ahead, doing her best to hide from him the effect he still had on her.

But now her little bubble of ignorance is shattering — as good as Beth is at compartmentalising and rearranging things in her head until they can fit into the neat little boxes she’s made up, she’s not quite good enough to find a motivation behind Rio deciding to kiss her that isn’t that he simply _wanted_ to do it.

For a moment, Beth doesn’t react, still trying to process what’s happening. And then she kisses him back, just as forceful as he is, her hands twisting in the lapels of his jacket the way his have in her hair.

Their kisses are bruising. His teeth sink harder into her lip than they ever did that afternoon in her bedroom. But she’s okay with that — might actually prefer it, that they aren’t pretending this is something it’s not —, gives it as good as she gets. A shiver travels down her spine at the way he moans into her mouth when she swipes her tongue over the indentations she’s left on his bottom lip. Yes, she’s more than okay with this.

And then his fingers move to the buttons of her shirt. She follows his lead, rushing to unbutton his. There’s a pause as they both try to shuck off their layers — his attempt much more awkward than hers, thanks to the coat he had on top of the shirt. Beth can’t help but smile, smug, at his frustrated groans — finally, some proof that he’s not always the most graceful human on this planet.

That smile is quickly wiped off her face, though, when he finally gets rid of the cuff that had gotten stuck on his wrist and immediately goes back to kissing her. His hands go to her hips, grip so tight Beth’s sure she’ll have bruises tomorrow, while hers run over the planes of his chest. She can feel each one of his scars, the smooth raised edges of them impossible to ignore. But Rio seems to be okay with it — doesn’t flinch or withdraw, doesn’t react at all, just kisses her harder — and so she is too.

At some point, he must decide he needs a more horizontal position for this, because he’s picking her up and walking her towards the desk, swiping the books they’d just been working on off it so he can lay her down on it. And the thing is, she can tell he’s not as strong as he was before, that he can’t quite hold her in his arms like he did in that bathroom. But that’s okay, too.

Everything’s okay right up until he moves down her body to nip at the top of her breasts, licking over the spot where the lace meets her skin. And it’s not as slow or gentle, but somehow it stills smacks of that same sort of reverence he had that afternoon in her bed, reminds her vividly of that look of something akin to wonder in his eyes. And that’s when the hand resting on his shoulder feels like it’s being burned by the scar underneath it, when her lungs feel like they can’t hold any air in them.

Suddenly, all she can think is that he’s here, looking at her like she might still be something precious, after everything. All she can think is that he’s here, but he was almost not. All the she can think is that she shot him three times and, when that didn’t kill him, she hired a hitman to finish the job. All she can think is that she doesn’t deserve that look, doesn’t deserve to touch him.

She moves her hand off his shoulder, tries to take big, slow breaths without him noticing. And it’s going okay, she’s almost managed to forget all about it, when he moves back up her body to kiss her. It’s the hand on her jaw that does it — the way it doesn’t have any pressure to it, despite how hard his kisses are, the way he splays his fingers so his thumb can touch the dimple on her chin. She has to break away from him to let out a sob. And it’s like a dam has opened, because after that there are tears streaming down her cheeks and more big, ugly sobs leaving her chest.

Beth’s not sure what she expected Rio to do when confronted with the woman he hates starting to cry in the middle of hooking up with him, but it’s certainly not _this_ — Rio grabs one of her hands in his and presses it to his chest, right over his scar, and asks her to match her breathing to his, all the while gently smoothing her hair off her face with his free hand.

When she calms down, they just stare at each other. Beth doesn’t know what to do, and she can tell that neither does he. This was supposed to be quick and furious, hate sex at its finest. And now it can’t be, not after _that_.

Beth’s not sure exactly how much time passes, but after what feels like an hour, she finally lifts a hand and runs it down his cheek, his neck, until it can rest at his shoulder, right over the scar there. There is no more searing pain. Slowly, she leans up to kiss him, giving him plenty of time to move away, decide this isn’t going to happen. Instead, he tangles his fingers in her hair.


End file.
